Love At The World Trade Centre (A Non-Green Day Story), chapter 1
I loved him. He was so gentle and caring. So pure and innocent like a single pearl. He was the only one that actually managed to keep me sane. I would have told him if i had known what was to come. Even if it was my last gasping breath, i would have used it to tell him i loved him. Before it was to late.
"Hey Mark!" I said cheerily, struggling to balance a coffee and a load of paper work in my arms as i reached out to press the elevator button.
"Here" He says, pressing it for me.
"Thanks" I smile, brushing my hair away from my face. There's some silence after that, but I can see Mark giving me side way glances, a small smile across his face. That smile. It always sent shivers up my spine, causing my heart to melt and my insides to go gooey like a silly school girl.
"Sally?" he asks, clearing his throat a little.
"Mm?" I answer.
"I was just wondering if...well...maybe you would like to..." he stutters however is cut off when the elevator doors slide open and more work men and women shuffle inside the small contraption. Mark doesn't finish his sentace, but instead stands in the corner all quiet. A dinging sound fills the air inside the elevator, signalling my floor to get out.
The doors open and I squeeze out and past people, looking behind me quickly and giving Mark a 'sorry' smile before heading for my office.
The World Trade Centre. That was where I worked. A bit of a stupid place to work really, well for me anyway. It wasn't what I wanted, but i got offered good money and when I started in pretty quick, making work friends like Mark. Well Mark was different. He was more than a work friend. But you don't really want to know about Mark. Not yet anyway.
"Sally the phone's been going non stop for you. And Mr Beecham wants to see you in his office as soon as possible," one of me work collegues, Maria, tells me as I burst through the door, placing all my belongings on the desk. I sigh and straighten my dull grey skirt out.
"Come in!" a voice booms as i knock on the door of my boss's office. I turn the door handle and enter, a friendly smile across my face.
"Sit down," he almost orders, pointing to a leather chair infront of his desk. I sit down reluctantly and wait for what was to come, staring worryingly into his big brown eyes.
"You're fired," he says simply. My face drops and the smile that once sat on my face quickly vanishes and i almost choke on my own saliva.
"What?" I ask again just in case what he had said wasn't really true.
"You've been slacking. So i'm firing you. Not completely, but just from this department, you will be moved to the department upstairs on floor 75," he stated, looking sternly over his glasses at me.
I don't say anything but I pick up my bag and scuttle out of his office, collecting my stuff then making my way up the stairs to the floor above. Slacking? Slacking!? Yeah right. He's one to talk, sitting on his fat arse all day in that stupid office of his ordering people around.
I walk down the hall and try to find my new office. Then I remember. Mark works on this floor. Well at least someone could help me out.
"Sally?" I hear a familiar voice call out. I turn around to see Mark stood there, a clipboard at hand.
"Hey," I say.
"What are you doing up here?" he asks.
"Got fired. The fucker," I mumble, now in a pissy mood. He gives me a sympathetic smile and a quick pat on the back.
"Im sorry to hear," he says. I sigh.
"Oh well, I've got you," I say, looking at the good things. He laughs a little.
"Look, I've got to go. I need to collect all the paperwork off everybody. I think you're office is over there. It's the only empty one anyway," he says, pointing to a door to the back of the room.
"Thanks," I call and head in the room, slamming my wedge of paper heavily ontop of the wooden desk. I slump down into the leather chair and gaze out the window for a while, scanning the view of New York. I don't concentrate on anything really, just gaze, letting my thoughts circle my mind.
Then I feel it.
"Hey Mark!" I said cheerily, struggling to balance a coffee and a load of paper work in my arms as i reached out to press the elevator button.
"Here" He says, pressing it for me.
"Thanks" I smile, brushing my hair away from my face. There's some silence after that, but I can see Mark giving me side way glances, a small smile across his face. That smile. It always sent shivers up my spine, causing my heart to melt and my insides to go gooey like a silly school girl.
"Sally?" he asks, clearing his throat a little.
"Mm?" I answer.
"I was just wondering if...well...maybe you would like to..." he stutters however is cut off when the elevator doors slide open and more work men and women shuffle inside the small contraption. Mark doesn't finish his sentace, but instead stands in the corner all quiet. A dinging sound fills the air inside the elevator, signalling my floor to get out.
The doors open and I squeeze out and past people, looking behind me quickly and giving Mark a 'sorry' smile before heading for my office.
The World Trade Centre. That was where I worked. A bit of a stupid place to work really, well for me anyway. It wasn't what I wanted, but i got offered good money and when I started in pretty quick, making work friends like Mark. Well Mark was different. He was more than a work friend. But you don't really want to know about Mark. Not yet anyway.
"Sally the phone's been going non stop for you. And Mr Beecham wants to see you in his office as soon as possible," one of me work collegues, Maria, tells me as I burst through the door, placing all my belongings on the desk. I sigh and straighten my dull grey skirt out.
"Come in!" a voice booms as i knock on the door of my boss's office. I turn the door handle and enter, a friendly smile across my face.
"Sit down," he almost orders, pointing to a leather chair infront of his desk. I sit down reluctantly and wait for what was to come, staring worryingly into his big brown eyes.
"You're fired," he says simply. My face drops and the smile that once sat on my face quickly vanishes and i almost choke on my own saliva.
"What?" I ask again just in case what he had said wasn't really true.
"You've been slacking. So i'm firing you. Not completely, but just from this department, you will be moved to the department upstairs on floor 75," he stated, looking sternly over his glasses at me.
I don't say anything but I pick up my bag and scuttle out of his office, collecting my stuff then making my way up the stairs to the floor above. Slacking? Slacking!? Yeah right. He's one to talk, sitting on his fat arse all day in that stupid office of his ordering people around.
I walk down the hall and try to find my new office. Then I remember. Mark works on this floor. Well at least someone could help me out.
"Sally?" I hear a familiar voice call out. I turn around to see Mark stood there, a clipboard at hand.
"Hey," I say.
"What are you doing up here?" he asks.
"Got fired. The fucker," I mumble, now in a pissy mood. He gives me a sympathetic smile and a quick pat on the back.
"Im sorry to hear," he says. I sigh.
"Oh well, I've got you," I say, looking at the good things. He laughs a little.
"Look, I've got to go. I need to collect all the paperwork off everybody. I think you're office is over there. It's the only empty one anyway," he says, pointing to a door to the back of the room.
"Thanks," I call and head in the room, slamming my wedge of paper heavily ontop of the wooden desk. I slump down into the leather chair and gaze out the window for a while, scanning the view of New York. I don't concentrate on anything really, just gaze, letting my thoughts circle my mind.
Then I feel it.
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